Thanksgiving has always been my least favorite major holiday—I’m pretty neutral on football, I don’t eat turkey, and I have a vague dislike of the part of the day when we all have to go around the table and announce what we’re thankful for. It’s not that I’m not thankful for things; I just don’t like the performance part. But this year I feel like I can’t wait to tell everyone—except that I don’t have to, because I am obviously in love with this tiny charming tyrant. My sister Kate is cooking for us, and I think I may bestir myself to make an almond pie. (My milk came in on Tuesday, so Joey can feast also.) There is sparkling apple cider. And did I mention there is a baby here?
I want to mention also how thankful I am for Joey’s godparents, Kate and Hank, my sister and her husband. Yesterday they worked on a tricky diaper change together and Mr. Book happened to wander by and see them working at it—he then came to me and told me how glad he was that they were godparents, how perfect they are, so warm and sweet with Joey already. They’re waiting a bit to have kids, and are getting to practice with their nephew. Evidence suggests that they will do great.
And I am thankful for you guys; thanks for reading, for the support, for the baby stuff, and for your own writing. I hope the holiday is a blessing to you all, and to your families.